


And So Bucky Met Him

by Sproings



Series: Extras: Between Their Names [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproings/pseuds/Sproings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to Between Their Names</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So Bucky Met Him

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to [ Between Their Names ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4436879/chapters/10080653)

“Jeez, Kruger, I knew you were an idiot, but I figured even you had the good sense to stop at getting expelled instead of trying to get yourself arrested, too.”

“What?” Bucky said. He’d been trying to find a quiet place behind the school where he could smoke a cigarette before it was time for football tryouts, and at most schools he’d been to, the area around the dumpsters was a sure bet. Not at Dwight Eisenhower Academy, apparently.

“Oh, you’re that new guy,” said the same voice as before. 

Bucky came around the corner, and finally saw who was talking. He recognized the blond hair and the long, thin fingers, because he’d noticed this guy in the hallways. But the black eyes were new. “Fuck, what happened to your face?” Bucky asked, the surprise of it robbing him of his usual charm.

“Nothing.” The guy scowled at him, as if daring him to challenge the obvious lie. His eyes were so damned blue, surrounded by all that bruising.

“Oh. Well in that case, you’re wearing too much eyeshadow.” Bucky walked around the dumpster to lean against the wall.

Blue-Eyes turned away. “Whatever. I’m going home,”

“Hey, wait, can I . . .” Bucky was going to ask if he could walk him home, because ‘Kruger’ had to be Henry Kruger, formerly the center for the school football team, and Bucky happened to know the guy was pissed about the ‘formerly’ part. Word had it that someone had ratted him out for spray painting the library, and shit, was that where those bruises were from?

Anyway, Blue-Eyes was giving Bucky a look, like there was no chance he’d accept any help, so instead Bucky said, “Do you know how to get to Sherman Street? We just moved in, and . . . “ He shrugged as if he didn’t know perfectly well how to find his own house. He’d moved enough times to be able to make a mental map before he even finished unpacking.

“Yeah, that’s where I live. Did you move into Mrs. Park’s old place?”

Bucky blinked in surprise. “I guess? It’s the brick one, about half-way down.”

Blue-Eyes nodded at him and started walking again, on a path that would take them right past the football field, into maximum possible danger. “C’mon, I can walk you there.”

If there was one thing Bucky was an expert in, it was how to get popular at a new school. He’d certainly done it often enough, being dragged from state to state in the wake of his father’s Army career. Hanging out with the skinny, angry (beautiful) kid who might have ruined the football team was not the way to do it.

Bucky followed without hesitation, catching up in just a few steps. “My name’s Bucky, by the way. Well, actually, it’s James, but everybody calls me Bucky.”

“Steve Rogers,” said Blue-Eyes, coming to a sudden stop and sticking out his hand.

Bucky put his out, too. He half expected Steve Rogers to crush it, because he seemed like a guy with a lot to prove, but Steve shook hands just right. Web to web, firm, smooth pressure, no squidgy weirdness. Both of them had cold hands from the fall air, but they matched, so it was okay. 

Steve let go and started walking again. As they got closer to the football field, he said, “Are you trying out for the team? They’ve got an opening, and you seem . . . sporty.”

“No, I don’t think I’m interested.” It wasn’t even a lie. He’d never been interested in football. He just liked being liked, and sports were a good way to accomplish that.

“Everybody’s interested,” said Steve.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“No.”

“What, you don’t count as everybody?”

“Guess not.”

“Well, that makes two of us, then.”

Steve looked over, warily, like he was waiting for the punchline. Like he was waiting to _be_ the punchline.

Bucky shoved down thoughts of what he’d like to do to that asshole Kruger, and to everybody else who’d made Steve expect to be treated like shit, and said, “So, what do people who aren’t into football do for fun around here?”

“Uh, read? Watch tv.”

Bucky didn’t generally talk about books. It didn’t earn him any points in the popularity game. But he suddenly found himself playing a different game altogether. “Have you read The Hobbit?” 

Steve’s whole face lit up, in spite of the black eyes. (Score one for Barnes.) “Yeah, it was great. I actually liked it better than Lord of the Rings.”

“Well, Bilbo’s not as mopey as Frodo.”

“Exactly!” Steve looked almost as surprised as he did happy. 

This seemed . . . dangerous, somehow. Bucky wanted to make Steve smile all the time, and they’d only just met.

(Three more years of high school, and then I can be whoever I want.)

(But Steve was here _now_.)

Bucky grinned at him. “Besides, Smaug is a dragon. Way cooler than Sauron.” 

“Definitely. And it had three spiders, instead of just one.”

“Have you read any Steven King?” Bucky asked, careful with the phrasing, because the spider he was thinking of was kind of a spoiler.

“Nope. Why, what’s your favorite?”

Bucky gently nudged Steve with his elbow. “What makes you think I’ve read any?” 

Steve smiled and rolled his eyes. This was probably all a bad idea. Bucky should run away from this. Steve was (beautiful, smart, perfect) . . . not someone Bucky could keep at arm’s length, and he knew better than to get attached to people.

“I really liked ‘Salem’s Lot,” Bucky said, ignoring the warning in his head. “It’s about vampires.”

“Have you ever watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

“No, is it good?”

“Yeah, it’s great. You should come over and watch it. I mean . . . um.” Steve had turned pink and wasn’t meeting Bucky’s eyes.

“Cool, when is it on?” Bucky said, very casually, even though Steve’s blushing was apparently a problem, considering what it did to Bucky’s heart rate.

“Tonight, actually. Nine o’clock. But you don’t have to, if --”

“I’ll bring cookies.”

Steve turned, his eyes all wide and perfectly blue, and a slow smile spread over his face.

Bucky was done for.


End file.
